<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Undergrown by QuietButterfly</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25312114">Undergrown</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietButterfly/pseuds/QuietButterfly'>QuietButterfly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Awkward Tension, Dorks in Love, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Past Abuse, Romance, Writer's Block</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:15:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,329</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25312114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietButterfly/pseuds/QuietButterfly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Maybe you just don't want to write?" </p><p>Twenty-something, Asian immigrant writer and flower shop-esque café owner Clover Kerah Miller attempts to succeed at writing a book without breaking down and shattering into pieces. Maybe meeting someone along the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Character &amp; Original Character, Original Female Character &amp; Original Male Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Block</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted on Wattpad because I got scared of how people would react to it here. Hopefully you like it, and even if you don't I just feel lucky that people are reading this. Hope you have a good time with this one.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her lips curved into a smile.</p>
<p>The twenty-three year old finally got started on writing without turning away to start sketching something that is amazingly portrayed in her writing yet not in her drawings; realism. She was actually writing her book- a story she wanted to share so it wouldn't just be hers, something she's been writing over and over, with each rewrite something new would blossom from her mind and plucked out and written down onto her notebook.</p>
<p>Her pencil started to feel like it was writing for her instead of her former continous demand of it to write what she wanted--what she aspired. She didn't need to. It was giving so much more than that.</p>
<p>She wished it was one of those days.</p>
<p>Clover could feel her pencil under both her index finger and her thumb pushing onto her and leaving a deep dot.</p>
<p>Chapter two was written with blue ink right at the top left of the notebook, and she dreaded looking at it with the knowledge that the last time she wrote a chapter two was half a decade ago.</p>
<p>She looked at her left, seeing the framed certificate she got back in University. An award for a short story she wrote when she was nineteen. The certificate read "'Plastic Kites' by Clover K. Miller, Underclassmen Prize, Impecunous, Winter 2020."</p>
<p>She couldn't believe it's been more than four years since she wrote it.</p>
<p>And the fact that she couldn't top it after all that.</p>
<p>She sighed. This was always the case and today was no different- she wanted to move writing to tomorrow, and move it to tomorrow's tomorrow. And move it to that tomorrow's tomorrow. No matter how much she liked the idea of writing.</p>
<p>That's the problem with you. She told herself. Only liking the idea of things. Not bothering to initiate it.</p>
<p>"This is Kelsey Matthews, and I'm the voice for this recording. And I'm here to tell you that your phone is ringing." The voice of the aforementioned Kelsey Matthews' recording made her jump, as the room was silent before her phone started ringing.</p>
<p>"Ring. Ring, ring." Kelsey Matthews' voice turning into one that indulged itself to the irony that she decided to make herself a ring tone instead of concentrating on writing a routine for her comedy act. Well, that was Clover's interpretation of it. Though her attempts, they weren't really close.</p>
<p>That was a story for another time though. "Hello?" Clover asked, answering her phone.</p>
<p>An unfamiliar voice was on the other line. Of course, she already knew it was going to be. Unknown caller. "Hey!" His voice was stereotypically deep, but sounded smooth saying that enthusiastic 'hey'. Weird for a guy, she thought. "Uh, your sister gave me your number I think? You're Siani's sister, right?"</p>
<p>She nodded, before realizing there wasn't anyone in front of her. She smiled, embarrassed. "Um, yeah." Why would Siani give this guy her number-</p>
<p>"Yeah, um, she said that you weren't seeing anyone. And this may seem-" he paused mid-sentence. Clover already knew where this was going, and she was trying not to end the call and call Siani instead so she could scream at her. This was the worst time to try and get her with someone. She was trying to concentrate on her crap at the moment. </p>
<p>"Anyway, uh." Shit. She wasn't listening to him. "It's Jason by the way, Jason Malick. Sorry if I kept talking there. Maybe wanna grab a coffee sometime?"</p>
<p>Clover sighed. "Yeah, sure. Not now, though. Maybe like, next week." She nodded. "Yeah next week."</p>
<p>Before he could reply she said bye and hung up.</p>
<p>She pushed her head onto her pillow. She could feel the discomfort in her stomach as she regretted that conversation. Not only did she say 'sure, I'll have a coffee with you and wait for my impending embarrassment as I start spilling said coffee in front of you whilst regretting agreeing to go here instead of working on my book', but Siani, Siani, her sister of all people helped her with it.</p>
<p>Of course, neither of the two specified where they were going to get that coffee. She barely remembers his name, and he probably doesn't. Wait, did he even know her name?</p>
<p>Whatever. One problem to check out. Fifty hundred left to go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The flower shop esque café that her sister worked in was one that Clover owned and had recently opened two months ago. It was right next to the apartment she lived in, so confronting Siani about what happened with James would be easy--was it James? She could hardly recall.</p>
<p>Her store's sign signaled her that she was there. The initials of "Miller's Flora and Coffee" was carved on the metal sign, plastic vines going around the handle that held the sign up. The cashier was waving at her through the window, probably seeing her and thinking that she was looking in. She waved back, wishing that Hannah didn't mind that she was coming in during her much needed day off after this week--which she probably did, considering how supportive she was of Siani covincing Clover to take that break.</p>
<p>Clover went in, her slippers making a quieter version of the sound her sandals make whenever she stepped onto the tiled floor of the café.</p>
<p>Hannah, the cashier, had a grin on her face as she heard the store's door bell ring. "Hey boss!" She greeted Clover, waving again. Clover returned the gesture with a small smile.</p>
<p>"Why are you late for work?" Hannah said, pointing at the clock to emphasize her point. "It's been like, an hour."</p>
<p>Clover's smile faltered, just a little. She didn't want to blame her for being forgetful, not today at the very least. It was actually somewhat irrational to keep reminding her of stuff like this, she was, in her words, "as forgetful as her grandma when she was still alive", after all. And Clover didn't think she could do anything about it.</p>
<p>"It's supposed to be my day off, it's Saturday." Clover said, trying her best not to sound hostile, especially while being reminded why she was here in the first place.</p>
<p>Hannah nodded, brushing off some of her dirty blonde hair from her face. "Oh, that explains why you look like that." She said, though the words might make it seem, she wasnt being sarcastic. "You don't usually wear that to work. Or have your hair like that."</p>
<p>Now that Hannah was pointing it out, Clover was realizing how shitty she looked at the moment, seeing her reflection on the store's window- she wasn't exactly planning to go out of her apartment today. Her black hair was barely brushed and was tied into the best messy ponytail Clover could make in such an irrational hurry, the faded out green jacket she wore barely covered up the spaghetti sauce stained shirt she wore under it, and the shorts she was wearing definitely didn't help her endure the cold air conditioned store.</p>
<p>Clover blushed at that, embarrassed and tried to fix up her jacket so that the spaghetti stain won't be as obvious and even attempting to pull down her shorts a little. "Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to see Siani anyway." She said, scratching the back of her head.</p>
<p>"See me for what?"</p>
<p>Clover turned her head to the door to see her sister, Siani-she couldn't help but laugh at her name, always remembering how original her mom thought it was.</p>
<p>"It's why your dad named you." Her mom would tell her.</p>
<p>"Are you okay with the fact that he named me after fancy grass?" She'd reply.</p>
<p>Siani swept her blonde bangs to the side in an attempt to tuck them into the dark green bandana that she tied around her head, and also so it wouldn't poke her eyes. If you squinted, you could almost see the brown roots from her hair line. She had brown eyes just like Clover's, except you could actually see it was brown without needing to look up close. </p>
<p>"You should know why." Clover said, trying to get straight to the chase.</p>
<p>"Okay, okay. I'm sorry that I forgot to buy you those-"</p>
<p>Clover blushed, making Hannah let out a confused laugh as she watched the conversation between the two sisters. "We aren't at home, Sia! And that's not it!"</p>
<p>She pauses. 'Oh God what was that guy's name again.' </p>
<p>The store door bell rang again. Clover turned her head to see a boy.</p>
<p>'Not a boy.' Clover corrected herself. 'You're not fifteen, you sound like a pedophile. Oh God.'</p>
<p>He had a dorky smile on his face. He seemed to be a stereotype coming to life- a happy go lucky guy who'd make anyone comfortable. Make anyone laugh. All he was missing was being blonde, instead being a ginger.</p>
<p>Along the bridge of his nose were freckles, scattered on his fair skin. Even on his cheeks. His eyes were a nice blue from what she could see. He was carrying a few sacks of what seemed to be coffee beans with his lanky arms.</p>
<p>"Hey, Jason." Siani said, grinning. She attempted to grab one of the sacks of coffee beans, before struggling to even carry it. "Need any help with the coffee beans?"</p>
<p>He grinned right back at her. "Who am I to deny help from you?"</p>
<p>Clover's eyes widened. Jason. It was Jason. And that's what he sounded like on the phone, so that was the same Jason who just called her. She could feel her stomach eating itself away again and again as she watched Siani and Jason talk to each other while Hannah joined in.</p>
<p>Of course he was quick to notice Clover's presence. He smiled as his gaze was shifted towards her.</p>
<p>And of course, Siani was as quick as him when it came to pushing Clover into a situation she didn't want to be in.</p>
<p>"Hey Jason, it's the sister I told you about a few weeks ago." Siani told him, gesturing Clover to them. Clover gave him a crooked smile once she was face to face with him, even saying a small 'hi' whilst trying not to freak out.</p>
<p>'You're supposed to be writing.'</p>
<p>"You're a lot nicer to talk to when you're not on the phone." Jason said to her, letting out a small laugh at the end of the sentence, followed by a forced nervous chuckle from Clover.</p>
<p>He was apparently the one who brought all the coffee beans from her supplier every other week or so. "Course it's not my actual job." He told Clover, almost defensively. "When my dad gets too busy with all the coffee beans and since my brother can't drive yet, he pays me to bring the coffee beans here."</p>
<p>Clover smirked, genuinely but still somewhat cautious. "Do you actually need the money?"</p>
<p>He shook his head, snickering. "No. I'm a manager at a small hardware store eight blocks away. I just work on my day offs."</p>
<p>He hung out with them for a while, even helping out with the store as customers came in during the afternoon. But of course, he soon needed to leave. He shook her hand goodbye, something she knew she was never going to grow accustomed to.</p>
<p>As soon as he left, Siani raised an eyebrow at Clover. "Is that why you were here? I gave him your number and stuff?"</p>
<p>Clover sighed, putting a hand to her face. "Yep."</p>
<p>Siani looked at her with a tired smile. "He's good though, right?"</p>
<p>Clover thought for a second. "So far, yeah."</p>
<p>Siani grinned. "I'm glad to hear."</p>
<p>Clover closed up shop at about five thirty, a few minutes after Siani and Hannah left.</p>
<p>She went back to her apartment and went into her room after making some instant noodles to bring with her inside.</p>
<p>She sat on her bed after setting down the bowl of instant spicy ramyun she made onto her makeshift table. She opened up her notebook again, snapping back into reality.</p>
<p>'Chapter two' was still the only thing written on that page.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Visiting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clover meets up with a college friend in a surprisingly not shitty ramen place and becomes reminiscent of her Uni years, despite some memories not being good.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a rainy day.</p><p>Nothing that Clover minded, of course. Rain always brought out the smell of dirt, always put her in the mood for good old congee in the morning and made her want to sit by herself on the couch or her bed reading a college alternate universe fanfiction for one of her favorite shows or re-watch Ratatouille on her DVD player.</p><p>But alas, even though today was the perfect day- with the nice rainy weather, it being another one of her day offs and her actually being in the mood to be alone and maybe write her book (<em>that's a joke, </em>she took note)- she knew that she still had something to do.</p><p>Course she didn't know what that was entirely. She always had something to do or just something that leaves her head all cluttered--like, how most media that gets taken seriously could be barely be passable for her standards, or how hypocritical she felt for complaining to other people about how she feels about a romance novel even though she herself wouldn't be able to do any of it because unlike what she assumes of the writers who write for the genre, she wasn't arrogant of her writing unless she were surrounded by people younger than her.</p><p>She groaned. <em>Focus.</em></p><p>Clover was already bored. She hated that about herself, she lacked the proper attention span for things that tend to matter- nothing on a severe level but still <em>important. </em>She knew that it was about something something Japanese whatever, but that was it.</p><p>She went ahead and leaned to the back of her bed as she actually got up from it, brushing her bed head with her fingers. It was still pretty early--well, for Canadian standards, she assumed. It was six-thirty in the morning.</p><p>She got up from her bed and took one look at her trash can and immediately cringed at the sight.</p><p>The first chapter of the book she was writing was crumpled into 4 degraded versions of paper covered with ink, while the second chapter looked like it attempted to wrap itself on the outside of all of those balls but ripping from how many there were.</p><p>Her notebook meanwhile was stretched out thin which made her chest feel funny, or her stomach-- she couldn't tell anymore. She hated not just wasting paper, but the fact that she knew that chapter one of "Adeela and Huweyn" was already good, she could've just made it a stand alone story--a short story about two kids learning how to appreciate each other.</p><p>She couldn't leave it as that though- it wasn't the same formula of story as it was in college. She couldn't leave it there as it was that good because there wasn't anyone who would take this away from her or be able to ruin it like her teacher or that stupid (<em>yet hot</em><em>, </em>she remembers her eighteen year old self noting, realizing she was nearly a mirror image of her) girl who'd she used to help edit out her story until she edited out Clover's story and was the cause of nearly one bad grade for a project in creative writing-- one of the classes Clover prides herself in for exceeding the standard of.</p><p>Blood rushed up to her face and colored her cheeks red. She hated admitting to faults if they were things like this-- she was no different than her eighteen year old self when it came to her stubbornness.</p><p>Or her thirteen year old self.</p><p>She shook her head, remembering the girl she met back in creative writing. They both had it as a second major while they were both off to pursue different paths- Clover in finance and the girl in art. She treated the class like a back up plan if her art career didn't blast off, or well, something synonymous to that.</p><p>She remembered the one time she saw her just outside Clover's dorm, waiting for Clover to come out to help her out with either the photography part of art class or to give her a brief lesson on a specific part of art history.</p><p>Sometimes she was outside not just for that. Sometimes so they could hang out--go to cafés, watch a Studio Ghibli movie with her friends, or just hang out.</p><p>She remembered her look. Dirty blonde hair that almost looked brown, always curly no matter what she tried and tied into a ponytail. She had freckles all over her body, or what was exposed of it. She always wore her brother's old blue and gold letterman around the September and November and a pair of Doc Martens. Her eyes were an artificial shade of green, always wearing contact lenses because she always thought the blue didn't suit her.</p><p>
  <em>Neither did the green.</em>
</p><p>She recalled now. Her name was Lo, and they were meeting up today.</p><p></p><div>
  <p></p>
</div><p><br/>She always forgot how ramen got old quickly.</p><p>And no, it's not about how it's quality worsens overtime--the soup and the noodles getting more oily by the minute, though that is part of it.</p><p>No, it was because of how much there was in one bowl. Too much. She was never going to become accustomed to big meals or even bowls of ramen like this. Growing up, what was on her plate was usually a cup of rice from breakfast to dinner with a small side of fried meat, eggs, or soup, with the occasional Mexican themed take out.</p><p>That's why Clover hated it when Lo would drag her here-- to a Japanese restaurant that served way too much fish cakes in their soup and had TWO soft boiled eggs to attempt to give off more flavor with its half cooked yolk, when they could be in a Chinese restaurant eating a moderate amount of cold cuts and noodles.</p><p>Of course she kept telling herself that even though ramen was objectively delicious. She just hated the fact that Lo never let her pick a place to eat at like she was the one older than Clover even though the opposite was true.</p><p><em>That's how a kid would reason it.</em> She told herself.</p><p>
  <em>And like, </em>
  <b>
    <em>Lo</em>
  </b>
  <em> is paying.</em>
</p><p>Lo swept her curly dirty blonde hair off from her shoulder as she sat down, just coming into the restaurant and immediately seeing where Clover was. Her blue eyes looked gray due to the lighting of the old ramen place but it didn't really made her less eccentric looking. She smiled at Clover, setting her laptop case onto the seat next to her.</p><p>She definitely looked different the last time Clover had seen her. Her old university best friend wasn't as close to her as they'd promise they'd be when they were naive and young. She remembered that moment, it felt so dramatic because they were staring up at the sun as it started setting, sitting at the back of Clover's car.</p><p>She was thankful they were still friends though. "Hey Lori."</p><p>Lo laughed at a little before making the sarcastic comment of calling her a nickname with the same syllables as her actual name.</p><p>Clover replied by making a hand puppet, yapping in an attempt to mock Lo's voice and her ultimately unnecessary nitpicking. She just laughed at this.</p><p>"I hate the fact that you're technically older than me." Lo said, her tone making it sound like some kind of joke though through context of what she was saying it'd make more sense.</p><p>"I hate the fact that people think I look a lot like you, except fatter." Clover retorted. "We both don't get what we want."</p><p>A few moments after ordering and before they could even start catching up, the ramen came in quick and fast, something Clover found inhumane as she saw how it looked.</p><p>"Holy crap." She said, gasping dramatically to emphasize her shock. "It's beautiful."</p><p>Lo grinned. "You and Eunice are like the same person, I swear to God."</p><p>Clover would've raised an eyebrow if she knew how to, simultaneously watching Lo push her spoon into the soup. "What do you mean? I'm nothing like Eunice."</p><p>Lo did a weird hand gesture, confused on how to reply to that. "You two just are okay with ramen that's just, well, <em>okay</em>."</p><p>"This is okay ramen to you?" Clover pointed at her spicy ajisen ramen. Half of a soft boiled egg was on top, it's yolk dissolving into the soup. The fish cakes were a moderate amount and the pork was thin but the slices were big. "I know ramen isn't exactly the most rare dish from Japan." <em>It's street food </em>was what she meant. "But just because you spent nearly a full year in Japan back in '22 doesn't mean you have any right to criticize my taste in ramen." Clover said matter of factly. "Eunice was there with you for half of it, but she does-"</p><p>"Well I do." Lo cut off. "I already barely criticize anyone for anything. You know I hate doing that to people who are trying. But like, it's ramen man."</p><p>Clover felt a sharp breath come out of her nose--a deep exhale. "Easy for you to say. Anyway, " Clover continued, attempting to change the subject, "how's the webcomic going?"</p><p>Lo smiled. "It's going great! I actually got a nice IPad and have been trying find someone to help me write out a script since-" She paused, her smile faltering before coming back, looking weaker. "-Kelsey's comedy routine became more prominent to her."</p><p>Lo shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. "Yeah, um anyway." Lo took her chopsticks and took some of the egg white from the soup, pushing it to the side of her mouth so she could talk properly. "That guy Oliver from our CW class offered to help out but he kind of asked for a lot of money." She scratched the back of her neck. "And I think I should accept it, I do have more than enough money and well, the webcomic makes me more money since Patreon exists, and even if it didn't anymore something would replace it and people would want to see bonus art there instead."</p><p>Clover cringed, swallowing the chewed fishcake she had in her mouth for a while. "Oliver? The guy with the best name ever but is such an asshole, Oliver?"</p><p>Lo nodded, frowning. "Look, I don't like what he did to you." Lo looked down, inhaling through her nose. "Or to Sarah. And maybe some other girl or whatever, I dunno. But he's good-"</p><p>Clover shook her head no and Lo's eyes widened, brow up in confusion.</p><p>"We used to keep in touch even after uni. Until, well, I couldn't bear it anymore." Clover took her half empty glass of water and drank what was left then putting a hand on her forehead. Too much water. "And I used to help him edit his stuff out."</p><p>"Until he didn't credit me because I was just an 'editor'." Clover rolled her eyes. "And now he thinks he can do my job."</p><p>It was Lo's turn to roll her eyes. "Look, just because you two have bad blood doesn't mean that he can't help me write a script while I work on the drawings. He's really good at dialogue."</p><p><em>Ouch. </em>That was definitely a jab to her less dialogue focused writing. A painful one, nonetheless. She didn't need to be called out like that.</p><p>Their waiter takes away the empty bowls and glasses and hands Lo the bill.</p><p>"So," Clover got up from her chair, checking her phone. "Thanks."</p><p>After exchanging goodbyes she saw her Uber pull up right in front of the restaurant.</p><p>She sat down on her couch, notebook in hand. 'Chapter One' written on the top right side.</p><p>Oliver. She cringed just at his name.</p><p>She started writing.</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>Adeela knew that being paired with a boy for a project was going to be bad.</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>She hated them. They'd always pulled at her pigtails and call her names, and her friends always told her it was because they liked her.</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>She couldn't bare it. They were bugs. </em>
  </b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Oliver</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clover unfortunately recalls her old writing partner, Oliver, but was thankfully interrupted by Jason calling her.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clover looked down. Her purple spiral notebook was closed, neatly crumpled paper balls that were formerly ripped pages sat next to it- mocking her inability to write something she actually wanted to write.</p><p>Her head was spinning as those two alongside her pen were the only thing in her vision, everything else- all her plants, her certificates, her books, pictures- they all felt like they disappeared into the wall as her doubt was eating away at her confidence.</p><p>She couldn't think of anything else as she opened up the notebook, opening up the pen with her teeth- not out of the fact that anything was in the way for her to open it with her other hand, but out of frustration as she felt that this was something that was required of her.</p><p>'It is.' She thought to herself, yet again looking down at her sad excuse of a notebook- stretched to it's thinnest as it was only a few pieces of paper stuck together by a cord, and had two covers that were nearly ripping away at the metal spirals.</p><p>She had just thrown out her untitled story about toxic femininity for the fifth time- this time, even throwing out the perfectly average first chapter that she was once proud of, but now saw it as something that she didn't need to write or needed to continue. </p><p>Because she didn't saw anything for the future for that book, just like multiple other projects she's started before.</p><p>But she didn't want to admit to that. She'd never. She'd get through it, whatever it was. Even if her perseverance turns into stubbornness- as if she kept trying to push a boulder up a mountain that just kept getting higher and higher no matter how close she think she's got to it's summit.</p><p>She groaned as she hit her back against the corner of the wall in an attempt to get up- screaming her lungs out as she fell back down onto the floor, unintentionally kicking the crumpled papers and her notebook at the same time. They slid across the room- but Clover couldn't notice.</p><p>Tears welled up in her eyes as her head hit the floor with a quiet thud. She couldn't even get help for herself- her screams too quiet for anyone to hear. She felt so pathetic. </p><p>She could feel the pain numb as she laid down on the floor, tears drying up. Pit in her stomach as her nostrils flared with hot air. She remembered sleeping on the floor once; it was nothing like this. She had the comfort of people as she laid down on an old mattress on the floor, talking to her brother till they were both tired. The mattress hurted her back so much. No matter how many comforters she'd put on top of it. But she had her little brother there for her to cope, or one of her two sisters, or even her grandmother. </p><p>But now all she had was her plants and herself- neither of which were much help in lifting her spirits. </p><p>She breathed heavily on the pearl white tiled floor, grabbing onto a nearby chair to steady herself up, touching where the corner hit her. It stung- of course it did. Her father constantly told her that you don't touch somewhere you've been right after you've just been hurt.</p><p>She fell onto the floor again on all fours, hesitant as she crawled back to the couch. She couldn't bother to write today. She could never bother to write no matter how many ideas pop up in her head.</p><p>Her phone vibrated on her coffee table as it rang, thankfully disturbing her thoughts for a few seconds. Yet that didn't last long as she ignored it. </p><p>
  <em>"She was just an editor." He said to Ms. Koh with the most confident face he could muster. "A consultant."</em>
</p><p>Clover let out a deep breath.</p><p>
  <em>"Right, Kerie?"</em>
</p><p>It felt like squinting inside of her head, remembering things that made her feel like an emotional adolescent again.</p><p>
  <em>"Why did you tell her that you wrote it with me, Kerah?" Oliver had asked her, voice bitter like the taste of artificial seaweed. "Do you know how good that would've been for my career? For the people who'd see my vision the same way I do?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her tears fell down on the floor, pain in the pit of her stomsch felt as if she was hit with a punch to the face. "I'm sorry-"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"People like you are why I write like this!" He angrily exclaimed to her as quietly as he could, as the thin walls of her dorm would not able to keep the sound in one room. "Everytime I have something good, everytime people LIKE what I do, it gets taken away from me, just like that!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"But you can't pretend I didn't help!" Kerah tells him, shaky breath after shaky breath as the tears pour from her eyes at the pace of a waterfall. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I didn't!" He shouted this time- almost deafening. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You made me an editor in your stupid lie!" She replied to him, pausing as her vision was getting puffy from all the crying. She felt so tired. "You made a short story that was only a few thousand words long! Being an editor for that is like being Jennifer in the Back to The Futute movies!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I just want to be happy, Clover!" He said, making her flinch from not only him calling her by her first name but the action he did immediately after- breaking his glasses in half as he hits his head on her study table in a sobbing fit. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You already don't like me no matter how much I like you, no matter how much you know I'm hurting from you dating Devorah! Why couldn't you-"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"This isn't about me not being attracted to you! And it's especially not about Devorah!" She clenched her fist before pushing it back to resist the temptation to hit him. "Nothing about this is even remotely about her!" Kerah told him. "You can't use Devorah against me like that! You can't use our relationship against me!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He hesitated--just for a moment. She couldn't identify the emotion on his face before his hand curled itself into a fist.</em>
</p><p>She touched her left eye with her hand. She remembered Oliver's cold fist against her face. She remembered how much he cried over it- how much she's hurted him because she wanted credit.</p><p>And it left her confused.</p><p><em>"Ring ring. Hey, it's Kelsey Matthews with a new ringtone. Here to tell you that your phone is ringing, ring ring."</em> Kelsey's voice said from Clover's phone. She decisively picked up this time. </p><p>"Hey, Clover!" Jason said immediately after she answered the call. She could almost hear him grinning through her phone if such a thing were possible. "Is this a bad time?" His voice said through the small speaker on the top of her phone, Clover assuming that he noticed that she spaced out. "If it is-"</p><p>"No, no!" She whispered to him, voice raspy and soft. "It's okay."</p><p>She could hear Jason gasp, or a muffled idea of one. "Holy crap. You okay there?" He asked, a rush of worry overwhelming his voice. "I can go there. Just tell me what your room number is. I'm close by, I think. Yeah I see your shop- wait oops, that was-"</p><p>"Hey, it's fine." She reluctantly said, accompanying her words with a wry laugh. "You don't hav- you don't need to, you know. I just hit my back on a wall real hard, but it doesn't hurt anymore!" She continued, trying her best to lie so he could feel better.</p><p>"You sure?" He asked, a little less worried but the concern still in his voice. "Do you have a separate cold with the back ache?"</p><p>She laughed at that- a genuine one, this time, overshadowing the pity she felt for herself. "No, I'm good, I just drank some ice water." She said, lying through her teeth.</p><p>"In a place like Calgary?" Jason asked, unironic shock in his voice. "I know it's technically the summer, but you live in pre-global warming Alaska, basically. That's like drinking hot coffee in how people depict Egypt in movies." He laughed at his own joke, making Clover snort.</p><p>"Hey, it's okay now." She said, quickly attempting to change the subject. "Why are you calling me anyway? It's my break day today and we still have enough stock of your dad's beans to last us for a week if we can keep the customers rolling into the café." She put a hand to her face as she sat up from the couch. "What's up?"</p><p>"I dunno." His oddly sweet voice said through the phone. "Maybe I just genuinely wanna talk to you and not talk about work and how good your business is going?"</p><p>"But I like talking to you about work and how good the business is going." She said to him with a tired voice, trying her best not to yawn so she wouldn't hurt his ears. "You actually listen to me rant about how great shit is at my café-flower shop thing. You make me feel like it's okay that I geek out."</p><p>"Thank you." He said, sarcasm lacing his voice as he did. "I didn't know being an econ major could pick up ladies. Cause the dudes definitely did not like it." </p><p>Clover laughed, telling him simultaneously that he knew what she meant. As her laughing stopped, he coughed, attempting to be at his most sincere at what he was about to say. "Seriously, it's fine that you like that bull because I live for it, I'm pretty sure I already talked to you about how cool it would be if I got a job in the corporate department of product management. But I wouldn't mind knowing more about you besides your work, you're still in your twenties so there's probably a long list of great things."</p><p>She was glad he couldn't see her because she was rolling her eyes. "I mean, I didn't see you as a man who'd be interested in exposition-"</p><p>"Hey, as long as you're the one explaining it or at least saying something that keeps me interested." Jason said to her. It was hard for her to tell if it were a compliment or not.</p><p>"Well, what do you wanna know?" She asked him. "My personal life isn't that interestin-"</p><p>"Zodiac sign?" He asked, cutting her off. He was making it hard for Clover to tell if he was being serious or not.</p><p>She rolled her eyes out of habit to things that were unusual to her, sitting up on her couch and lying her head on its backrest. "I'm not into astrology, but I'm either an aquarius or a pisces. Or the goat one."</p><p>"You're probably a capricorn- I mean, the goat one. You act like it." Jason replied to her. "You're probably wondering why I asked that?"</p><p>Clover laughed. "No, not at all." She tells him, a stupid grin on her face that could probably top his. "You're just a dork who likes to talk to my cashier about how astrology is a valid science and that she should concentrate on that and not just astronomy."</p><p>"Ouch." He said to her with faux offense. "It's not like you drag mythology to the ground, right?"</p><p>"Don't just assume that I like mythology." She said to him, laughing. "But I kinda like Greek mythology, so you're also kinda correct. Then again, most of the people in the ones that I read are shitty, like Zeus and Aphrodite, and I constantly tell people that they should actually read the stories before telling me shit about how they'd like a lady like Aphrodite."</p><p>"Please tell me that you told them that they don't." Jason's amused voice said. "Aphrodite is the worst Olympian goddess."</p><p>"I know." She replied. She was as amused as he sounded. "I'm more of a Hestia fan myself."</p><p>That made Jason laugh. It was sweet like her sugar filled cream coffee and loud like her neighbour shouting out due to his inability to build a cabinet he got from Lowes- fitting of him. "She stepped down for Dionysius, Clover- you insane woman. And speaking of, Dionysius is the best Greek god ever, and you should be glad that Hestia stepped down for him."</p><p>The direction of the conversation was something she was glad that it went through. It was something about his natural charisma and enthusiasm yet the love of enjoying things ironically makes for a good lighthearted conversation- something she definitely needed.</p><p>"What's the black ring for?" He asked at some point as their conversation reached night. "The one you wear on your right hand?"</p><p><em>You saw it?</em>  "You don't know what it means?" She asked, yawning as she realized they've been talking for two hours. "It's like saying 'I'm asexual' without saying I'm asexual."</p><p>"Really?" He asked with interest. "I thought that you guys wore white rings."</p><p>"That's a weird misconception." She told him. "Aromantics wear those. And are you okay with that? Me being asexual?"</p><p>"I was just about to ask you if you'd like to eat some Taco Bell for dinner." He said with unironic, lazy conviction.</p><p>Oh. "Cool. Pick me up sometime around 7?"</p><p>"Yeah." He told her. "See you, Clover."</p><p>She threw away her notebook as she ended the call. Hopefully he wouldn't mind going notebook shopping at some point after they eat at Taco Bell, which he probably won't.</p><p>She hasn't written anything today but maybe that's okay for once. She just wished that positivity was linear. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>